the middleman

Yet, that never seemed to make her care. Kalia had never been well behaved, and thought all of that "women listen and act appropriately" stuff was all bullshit anyway. She did exactly whatever she wanted and whenever she wanted to.

❛ is she flirting with me?  no, that makes no sense... wait, am i being hazed?  am i gonna be impaled on a wooden pole like that one movie... what was that movie—wait.  focus. ❜ straying hues snapped back to look at kalia, focusing back on the present situation rather than off recollecting things.  she elegantly recovered those solid few seconds of clear silence and obvious distraction  . . .  by reaching out a hand with the thumb extended and swiping said thumb over the woman’s bottom lip.

Kind of amazing, how a subtle jab could influence the human facial rig.

Was she scheming, now? Or playing along? Who knew.

The science aside, Rex didn't seem to care all that much, as he continued his task of arranging crusty icons by name. Yesterday, it was by byte size. Some other times, by metadata. His cartoon body stood like a bent pole, while his arms hovered above, dragging dozens of files into order.

that gut feeling came rushing forward all at once at rex’s expression, exhausted then forcefully conversational, and then  . . .  silence pressed down with only the hum of the computer slotting in after fumi’s lack of response.  an intensity came into her gaze that had slid to the side, staring at the wall that separated the pair from the room of men.

    think.  faster.

did she trust her gut?  with that feeling of something being off?  but with no sound or logical proof tying in beyond a feeling, a hunch, if even that?  or did she put on that mask and continue on with chipper pleasantries?  out of sight and out of mind, one might say.

instead of circling these thoughts of emotions versus logic, or the mind versus feelings, other thoughts flooded forward.   move.  now.  move. now.   and this was enough for that intense gaze to flick back towards the screen, onto rex.  for a second, she wished that she could convey an apology, or convey anything with her eyes... but to do so would—truthfully—include him in on the plan and make her next actions less of a surprise.

said next actions were quick.  with fumi abruptly standing to her feet and the chair jostling backwards from the force, nearly toppling over from the motion.  the abruptness only continued as she grabbed up the clipboard and turned to face the security camera.

❛❛ no fucking wonder you’ve got pages and pages of the same shit. ❜❜   smacking at the clipboard to emphasize ‘pages and pages,’ before gesturing with it towards the screen.   ❛❛ is this even the real poindexter?  or is this some damn... character ai?! ❜❜   her exclamation, referencing the generative ai chatbot, was emphasized by slapping (throwing, really) the clipboard down on the chair seat.

and it didn’t stop there.

fumi yanked the provided keycard from her cardigan pocket and, in a whirlwind, made long strides over to the door that was camouflaged to look like a wall and pressed it inelegantly against the slab.  error noises joined the clatter of the improperly swiped key card, and instead of changing her method, fumi whirled around to start banging a foot and a fist against the camouflaged door.  her exclamations came back as she yelled,   ❛❛ let me out!  this is fucking bullshite!  let me out! ❜❜   cycling through these until the ‘wall’ whooshed away to reveal not one, but two security guards standing there.  her balled fists moved then, covering her lower face in a cowering pose, and her body turned as she shrieked:   ❛❛ get away from me! ❜❜  

her turned body rushed to move back inwards into the room, hands unballing to rush forward to cup the sides of the monitor that rex was on, and thick sleeves blocked her mouth as head dipped down.  calmly and firmly whispering,   ❛❛ stay strong. ❜❜   quickly releasing the monitor so that it wouldn’t be knocked off of the desk when burly hands grabbed up her arms.  partially lifting her off the ground and partially dragging her out of the room while she screamed, “let go of me!” with a high-pitch as they escorted the crazy redhead out of the building.

    » » »

the clock showed 2:53 AM at the bottom corner of the screen where she sat at.  retro yet modern in its design, but ‘nostalgic’ with the old sounds it made as fumi rushed through windows and her eyes darted over names.

extra precautions had been taken beyond security, with the feed looping into a boring nothingness, with no sign of anyone ‘blinking’ past solid doors they had been escorted through hours earlier.  with her hood up and thin gloves over her hands, the crazy redhead sat in the chair of the head of the operation behind this.  eyes skimming until she leaned forward once she was sure that she had frozen the record that would normally show a log for her next action.

Fetch was not in a great mood, and it seemed there were low chances of it getting better. Still, he was professional enough not to let anything make him cruel. At least not yet, anyways. He could feel a muscle twitch on the side of his neck, right where the shoulder connection was, and he moved his hand up to massage the specific spot. The silence that accompanied him was enough to make him be able to respond without being too prickly.

"Partnership. Fifty-fifty." He repeated after her, focusing on his tone, not to sound like he was mocking her. "I never said I wasn't going to treat this like a partnership, yeah? Just, I think, we should have roles -- areas of expertise, if you will." His hands waved around as he was gesturing a bunch of non-distinct symbols in the air, almost as if that was supposed to somehow explain his concept. "I'm not trying to treat you any sort of way, I don't know you well enough, but aye, thanks for assumin' that I'm assumin'."

The man chewed on a few curses but managed to control his temper. The day may be slightly challenging, he could feel it now, but at the same time, he preferred this than someone who'd be overly dependent on him. He assumed that if the doctor thought fumi was good enough, then that meant she didn't need too much protection, and Fetch was more of a 'just-in-case'. "I don't have a car. You drive. I'll be the passenger princess today." They needed to drive outside of the city anyway, to a relatively freshly paused construction site. The doctor mentioned James somewhere in the conversation which mean, they were going to be faced with some real shit. "Question though -- are you squeamish? You don't look it but... I'd prefer to know now."

maybe it would have been better to have a ‘normal’ reaction.  to roll her eyes as fetch continued speaking, but instead, her eyes were still and focused.  only moving down momentarily as he gestured with his hands, then moving back up at his words.  eyes boring into him until he finished.

and when he did, she couldn’t help it; well, maybe she could’ve,  but ultimately,  she couldn’t help the warble that ruined her blank expression.  lips moved by humor and warbling out of their stationary state, before they quickly spread into a mirthful grin.  those previously intense hues joined in with their narrowing forming ‘eye smiles.’  a humor that had been building from the moment she watched a muscle twitch, now came flooding out as her head turned and shoulders shook out a silent laugh.  with at least that much out of her system, fumi turned her grin to beam back onto fetch.  his slouch helped it be directed forward without any tilt of the head up or down, and maybe that would have been for the better... if not for the humored bastard standing before him right now.

because, seconds after she had turned back towards him, fumi leaned forward to not only invade the man’s space but also hunch herself down so that she would be looking upwards at him.   ❛❛ who the motherr~rfucking hell is assuming now, prr~rincess? ❜❜   profanity and rolling r’s both flowed out with ease from behind the dam they were typically contained behind.  but, even still, she didn’t linger with this humor and quickly leaned up and out of fetch’s space.  her prior stance shifted with this move, to now stand with a hand on a cocked-out hip.   ❛❛ you want roles?  go cry to whiteblood to pay me more so our ‘areas of expertise’ can swing in your favor. ❜❜   her words were capped off by a sharp tilt of the head towards the doctor’s closed door, but only a few seconds were given before she steamrolled right on.

❛❛ but if you want to get on with the job and see if my mouth gets ripped apart by what we’re walking into, then let’s go, babygirr~rl. ❜❜   rather than tilting her head to angle after those... choice of words... that had flowed out, fumi rolled her head and body in one turn towards the front door.  not even glancing back at the other as she strode over, opened the door and strode towards a vw bus with one hand pulling her phone from a jeans pocket, and the other reaching out to unlock the driver’s door.  once inside and seated, she would lean over to unlock the passenger door, then lean back as one hand tapped at the screen of the phone and the other pressed the key into the ignition.

#kdramawomensweek Day Eight: Age of Youth: The airport scene 

Seinfeld S02E01 (The Ex-Girlfriend)

Alex and her huge ass scar from explosion